Tell Me, What Do You See?
by Snartz
Summary: A blind Inquisitor shows Dorian that sight is not necessary to see the worth of someone. Dorian Pavus/Adaar


If Dorian was honest with himself, the fact that he had not noticed the Herald's disability sooner shocked him. Yes the Herald was a mage, which explained why the man would walk with his staff's blade sweeping out in an arch before each step, but to think he of all people would miss such an important detail left the Tevinter speechless.

Dorian gazed at the man before him. The man that was to be their savior. The man whom was sent from the heavens to rescue them all and yet the Herald could not even detect the slightest hint of light in the dead of night.

Not once had he seen the vivid imagery the world could offer, and he never would.

It was not as if Dorian had never encountered such people before, though he had to admit such people he never spoke to directly, but to think that such a man had once mentioned how much he valued he Tevinter's friendship truly left his mouth feeling as if packed with wool.

_How could one value a person without even gazing upon their form?_

Never had those long fingers brushed against his flesh. Never had they traced the strength of his jaw, or the soft curve of his nose. His face had been sculpted from hundreds of years of careful breeding. From weeding out undesirables, and promoting only those worthy enough to be considered for procreation. It was a work of art capable of ruling kingdoms, of making men weep, and this man knew nothing of it. Knew only of his wit and charm. Of his scholarly studies. Of his strained relationship with his family. Of the pain he felt when Felix eventually succumbed to his fate. Small and insignificant things. Things in which would have never been considered worthwhile where he came from. In fact deviation from the mold of dull and boring was seen as weakness. Despite this, the man seemed to cherish each and every new discovery about the Tevinter mage.

"You are pulling my leg! Never have such things occurred!"

"Ah, but they _have_. Give a young child enough prods and they will muster enough magics to send a cow to zoom about your room."

The qunari dissolved into chuckles, his unseeing eyes squeezing shut in joy. "I can not even begin to imagine the emotion on one's face if they were to come across such a scene." The man swept a stray hair back behind his pointed ear, shifting his weight on the chair to lean closer to the human.

"You must tell me more of your childhood Dorian, it sounds like you were a brat."

"Oh? I do not doubt that you must have gotten into your fair share of trouble, what with your strange ability to attract bad luck whoever you go, Tal-Vashoth. Perhaps you are cursed." Dorian wiggled his fingers teasingly at the man, but then faltered when he caught sight of the man's eyes once more. His hands dropped to clasp tightly in his lap, a sour expression on his lips as he waited for the taller man's response.

"Perhaps another time, my friend." The Inquisitor remarked as he stood from his seat, reaching out to gain his balance on one of the many shelves filled to bursting with bobbles and tomes. Seeing the man struggle, the Altus caught the man quickly by the shoulder.

"Careful, would not want to clean up that mess. I do have quite a few important tasks to complete, and re-sorting a pile of books is not one of them."

"There's no need to fret, Dorian." The qunari made to pat him on the arm but instead cupped the Tevinter on the cheek. "I-I apologize. I sometimes forget that we are not the same height…."

"It is quite alright. Might as well give you the chance to imagine the handsomeness which makes the rest of our companions seethe in envy."

The Tal-Vashoth let out a noise of distress, unsure on whether he should take the man up on his offer.

"Yes, yes. That is my cheek, while flawless as it may be, it is just a single piece of the puzzle. Go on." The human coaxed, smiling when fingertips began to map his features carefully.

"Ah…I did not realize you had a mustache." Dorian blinked in awe, an odd feeling settling in his gut. He could not even begin to imagine himself without his prized feature. To think that his only friend had been completely unaware of such a thing made him wonder how the man pictured him.

Hands traced the furrow of his brow, and the frown at the corners of the Tevinter's mouth, the qunari let out a surprised gasp a sad expression taking over his own face.

"_My friend_-"

The Tevinter froze in bewilderment at the change of tone, his eyes darting behind the taller man for witnesses to the affectionate gesture. "-_to think you have been hiding this pain since since birth, how lonely it must have been to carry such a burden in secret. You need not be asha_-"

"**Inquisitor!** Harding has responded!" Leliana called down over the railing, requesting his immediate attention on the matter.

A soft laugh escaped the Herald, dissolving the mood of their previous conversation instantly. "My duty never seems to end. I'll speak to you later, Dorian."

"You know where to find me." The Tevinter watched the man walk away, and once the Inquisitor was gone, he slumped down into his chair. Rubbing at his face timidly, he traced the points where the man's fingertips had lingered.

He had been _exposed_.

Years of hiding behind a façade of confidence torn away with a simple touch, leaving him _raw_ and vulnerable.

_For the first time in his life, Dorian felt as if someone actually saw him, and that scared him more than Corypheus ever could._


End file.
